


anima

by ABewilderedBear



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy Hargrove Lives, Billy Hargrove Needs a Hug, Dreams and Nightmares, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Post-Season/Series 03, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-25 05:53:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19739614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABewilderedBear/pseuds/ABewilderedBear
Summary: Billy Hargrove survives being one of the flayed. That doesn't mean he wanted to.He learned long ago that "things change", but he never really knew they could be for the better.





	1. Traffic

**Author's Note:**

> this work is titled and heavily inspired by the album, anima, by thom yorke (and the short film by paul thomas anderson). 
> 
> some of its themes about a dreamlike state, anxiety, and love will be in it. what the end result will end up looking like, even i don't know.
> 
> the album / short film are not a requirement to understand this story !

His head hurts.

As soon as Billy opens his eyes, he realizes this place is unfamiliar.

The lighting is dull, making it hard to see. He tilts his head to the right only to end up looking at the IV looming over him.

Something moves.

Billy’s head snaps to the left. Max and Harrington are staring right at him.

_Harrington?_

“Billy?” Max asks, tentatively. She leans forward in her chair a little, like she’s trying to get a better look at him.

“Water.” He says weakly, because fuck, he’s so thirsty, it’s overwhelming. Why is he so thirsty?

“I got it.” Harrington says, and scrams. Billy watches him go, not understanding why it’s taking him so long to know where he is. It’s on the tip of his tongue. 

Neil would call him an _idiot,_ and the word bounces around in Billy’s head. He is, he is, he is.

Max is still looking at him, like she’s trying to read his mind. He tries to think of something to say, but his head still fucking hurts and he’s an idiot.

“Where ‘m I?” Billy manages to rasp out. He can’t help grimacing once he starts realizing the dull ache throughout the rest of his body.

“The hospital.” Max answers, as if she’d been asked the same question at least a hundred times today.

_That’s_ what it’s called.

His throat hurts too much and he doesn’t really know what else to ask so he just murmurs out a soft “Okay. My bad.” because he’s sorry, and looks back at the IV. He misses the look of utter confusion on Max’s face.

“Uh, it’s okay.” 

Silence takes up the room. Billy feels like he’s slid down so far down the bed he might fall off. He lifts his hands to put them on the rails, only to see his right ring and pinky finger in a wrapped up splint. He can’t help but stare at them a while. Those fingers had been broken by Neil and healed wrong long ago.

Eventually, sliding a little further down the bed reminds him about his idea. He braces his hands on the rails. There’s a soft “Uh, wait-” from his left but he tries to pull himself up anyway, and it feels like his entire chest and back lights on fire. 

Billy can’t breathe, and there’s something _wrong, really fucking wrong, what the fuck is going on-_  
_  
_ He falls back against the bed, gasping for air. It feels like the shadow’s right there again, like he’s in the passenger seat of his own brain and his crashing car all over again and _he doesn’t have control over what to do, what does he fucking do-_

“Billy, breathe. It’s gonna be okay.” Max says, panicked. She’s pried his left hand off of the rail and put it in her own, and he pulls away once he realizes it.  
  
“I don’t wanna hurt y-ou,” He sobs, “not you too. _Pl-ease, not you too.”_ and he cries harder because he’s such a baby. Crying is for pussies, but he doesn’t know how to stop anything of what he’s doing wrong. 

Billy cries harder when people he doesn’t know come through the door, and he fights and screams until they hold him down and sedate him.

* * *

When Billy wakes up, Harrington is sitting in one of the chairs next to his bed. He’s cramped in it, trying to be as close to the only light as possible. There’s a book in his hands, brought up near his face. Billy watches him for a while, feeling too tired to talk. He wouldn’t know what to say anyway.

Harrington pulls the book away from his face after a while, craning his head to look right at Billy. He squints a little.

“Wh-at?” Billy wonders out loud, unable to keep his curiosity to himself. He wants to know what’s so fucking wrong with him, why everyone keeps looking at him like _that._

“I didn’t know whether you were actually awake, or just kind of there. It’s happened before.” Harrington swipes something off the bedside table, before standing up and holding it near Billy’s face. It’s a paper cup full of water, with a straw in it. As soon as Billy tries to grab it, he gently pulls it out of his reach. “I know it’s weird, but just let me hold it. You spilled it over yourself the last time.” He says, and puts it back out again for Billy to drink once his hands go back down.

Harrington doesn’t let him drink too much, eventually setting the cup back down on the table and sitting down.

“..Max?” Billy asks, eyes drifting to the chair she was in.

“I drove her home. I stay overnight when I have nothing better to do, because you’ve kind of freaked out on the doctors when you find out you’re alone.” Harrington responds, nonchalantly. It’s similar to how Max was talking, as if he’d answered the question plenty of times before.

“You’ve been here for two weeks.” He continues, his tone softer. “I don’t know if you remember what happened, but I’m not sure it’s a good idea for me to tell you the ‘why’ right now. A lot of your ribs were broken, you lost blood, and some other stuff. They also found a bunch of other things that never got treated right, like your fingers. I don’t know any of the other things you have because I’m really, really bad at scientific names and I’m only really doing this for Max.”

Billy stares for a while before nodding. “Thanks.” He murmurs hoarsely, looking down at the book that’s back in Harrington’s hand. It’s called _Advanced Dungeons & Dragons,_ and Billy remembers all of Max’s little friends suddenly. 

He remembers how scared and pissed they all looked in the locker rooms. Billy couldn’t honestly be upset about it. He slumps further down into the bed as he stares at the book, and wishes he hadn’t survived any of his close brushes with death.


	2. Last I Heard (..He Was Circling The Drain)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternatively titled: billy can't catch a break

Every time he wakes up, he can't help but think how miserable it is to do so.

The aches and pains hit him like a train now, along with the memories. If he never woke up again, he wouldn't have this problem. He’d rather be stuck with the shadow alone than hurt someone else, than hurt _Max_.

Billy hates the shadow, but he realizes he hates killing people more. The fact that he’s hurt others worse than Neil has hurt him makes him want to die.

After another week, the doctors tell him he can go home. Max brings him some of his clothes, with his necklace laying neatly on top of the folded pile. "Mom cleaned it for you." She had said once he picked it up.

Dressing feels like it takes years. He fumbles with the buttons of his shirt, and bending down to put on his boots makes him want to scream. 

It takes him a while, but he does it. 

The wheelchair isn't something he wants to get in. He tries to fight it, but the bitch nurse tells him it's policy. Neil looks at him with disgust the moment he sits in it. 

Everything is fucking painful and annoying, from seeing sunlight again to trying to get in the damn car. 

Susan is waiting patiently in the passenger seat, craning her head to watch Billy get in the backseat. He tries not to look at her. “I’m glad you can come home now.” She says softly, before Neil makes it into the driver's seat.

Max sits beside Billy, and he can't help but wonder what must have happened to his own car.

He's very surprised when they pull into the driveway to see that his Camaro is right next to Neil's car. Billy squints, staring right at it. It looks completely fine, like Harrington hadn't fucking crashed into it.

It’s fine. _How is it fine?_

The only thing he really does when he’s inside the house is go to his room, and get in bed. He lays on his back, staring at the ceiling for a long while.

Eventually, his head starts lolling to the side. Billy sees something on the dresser that hadn't been there before. He slowly reaches his hand up and grabs it off.

It's something small, rectangle-shaped. Maybe a few inches bigger than the size of a card. Someone's wrapped this up carefully with brown paper. Billy grunts and forces himself to sit up a little bit, trying to ignore the pain in his chest.

He gently tugs at one of the corners, pulling off the tape. Unwrapping it is almost as tedious as dressing is. Billy eventually gets all of the paper off, setting it aside to throw away later. He leaves the gift, a book, on top of his chest while he opts to read the card that was in front of it first. 

The card has a bunch of decorative flowers (daisies?) on the front, with "Get Well Soon" written in cursive. Billy opens it, to see a bunch of scattered messages written on the left of the inside.

'A few of the kids wanted to do something for you, so I bought a card for them to sign. Sorry it looks cheesy. Get better soon, maybe we can see ‘Weird ~~Sciense~~ Science’ together sometime. Max said you wanted to.' -Steve

'Feel better. Glad you’re alive. Sorry that I used the wrist rocket on you. Kinda.' -Lucas

'thanks for saving el. try not to die, we think you're pretty cool.' -mike and el

'i still kind of think youre an asshole, but maybe you can play d&d with us. this can help you, but if you dont want it give it back' -dustin

Dustin's was the last message on the left. He almost felt bad that he didn't really remember which of the kids was which. Billy looked on the right side of the card, only to see a drawing take up the entire thing.

Max must have gotten a picture of him, because this drawing was pretty accurate.

It looked like him, if he was a character in that D&D game or something. He had a crown of twigs and branches in his hair, and was dressed in some kind of tunic. There were _rats_ , bears, moose, and foxes around where he was standing, all looking up to him. Like he was king of the forest or something. He had to admit that whoever designed this was pretty talented. Billy scanned the card for who made it. 

He found it, in small print at the top right corner. 

‘Hargrove the Druid - 7/16/85 _Will Byers_ ’

Billy closed the card, gently setting it down in favor of the book.

_Of course._

It was the same book Harrington had. The _Advanced Dungeons & Dragons _one.

He traced a finger against the hardcover, before opening the book and starting to read.

* * *

_He’s back in the phone booth._

_He calls and calls and calls and no one is FUCKING PICKING UP._

_The hive is there and they’re coming closer and he’s stuck in the phone booth. They’re everywhere._

_“What the fuck do you want from me?!” He pleads, yanking the booth’s door shut and holding it there. No one picks up the phone. All he hears is the dial tone._

_“Leave me alone! Get away from me!” He yells again, but the hive only comes closer._

_The hive won’t even answer him, and they reach the phone booth, rip open the door, and start tearing him apart._

_Neil leads them._

* * *

“Billy!” 

“FUCK!” He yells, and shoots up from his bed. The wounds on his chest feel like they light on fire all over again. He falls back against the bed and tries desperately to breathe.

There’s someone putting their hand on his arm, and he grabs the hand. _Warmth, warmth. The shadow hates the warmth._

He’s holding Max’s hand, he realizes.

“‘m sorry. ‘m so fuckin’ sorry.”

“It’s okay. You were screaming. I didn’t want Neil to do something about it if he heard it when he came home.”

“Thank you.” Billy murmurs, before pulling her down for a hug. “Thank you, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry. ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry..” He goes on, and on. He can’t shut up or stop crying or stop saying sorry and that makes him cry more.

_What a fucking pussy._

* * *

Light floods through the window. It's not the same as California, since Hawkins seemed to have a permanent dreariness to it. Maybe it was the woods, or everything that had ever happened, but it was there. 

He's never looked out the window, at the woods or even the sky for that matter, and mistaken Hawkins for California. Not once. 

He starts sitting up, _slowly,_ and nearly falls out of bed when Neil barges in.

"Sir." Billy says automatically, and manages to stand up regardless of his body screaming at him to stop moving so damn fast.

Neil grabs his face and makes eye contact with him, just staring for a moment before he takes the terse tone he always does. "You're out. The amount of shit I've had to deal with since you decided to stop showing up for your job is un- _fucking-_ believable."

Billy breathes. Hearing that is the scariest, most relieving thing he's ever heard. He had wanted it. He was working on it, before the shadow took him, _into the darkness with the rats and the blood and the people he-_

His face gets gripped harder.

"Yes, sir." He remembers how to say.

"If you're not out of here by the time I come home from work, I'll keep your fucking car and make you wish you had died. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." 

Neil lets go of his face and shoves, sending Billy straight off balance back onto the bed. The last thing Billy gets is spat on and a "fucking ingrate" directed at him. The door slams.

He wipes the spit off his face, sits there for a while, before realizing the urgency that he has to go.

* * *

Billy doesn't have a lot of shit he really _needs._

He works on packing away his clothes, his music, and grabs whatever weights that are small enough to put in his car. It pisses him off how long everything takes.

Max helps, although he hadn't, _wouldn't have_ asked. Some of the boxes end up by the front door while he's packing the other ones.

Billy eventually climbs into the driver seat of the Camaro, extending his hand to set the D&D book onto the backseat. He brings his hand back to grip the steering wheel.

How this car survived Harrington crashing into it, he wishes he knew. Max won't tell him who fixed it up or why.

"Do you have a place to stay?" She asks, leaning down to look at him through the driver's seat window.

He chews his lip. "Not yet."

"Well, call me if you don't, or once you do, okay? You're staying in Hawkins, right?"

"..Okay. 'nd- yeah. For now. I don't have that much money." 

Max nods, moving away from the car. She watches him slowly pull out of the driveway and head off.


End file.
